


Our Love Is God

by captainthrace



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: 80s AU, AU, F/F, High School, Mentions of soccercop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-05 20:49:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1831789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainthrace/pseuds/captainthrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heathers inspired 80s high school AU.  Cosima was never popular - until her senior year of high school when queen bitch Rachel Duncan takes her under her wing. For the first time, Cosima is one of the cool kids.  The thing is, being popular kind of sucks when you hate your friends. When she meets the new girl from France (who's totally cool, and WAY hot) she thinks that things may be starting to turn around.  If you've seen Heathers, you probably know where I'm going with this.  If you haven't seen Heathers, oh boy are you in for a ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback of any kind is greatly encouraged!
> 
> Well, here we are. I'm apparently making my Orphan Black/Heathers AU into an actual thing. The first few chapters chapters are pretty close to the film/musical, but things are going to deviate quite a bit later on (Delphine as JD is going to be very different, for example)
> 
> This basically only happened because Rachel Duncan as Heather Chandler is the most amazing idea I've ever had ever, let's be real. 
> 
> We'll see how this goes.

           

 

October 10th, 1989

 

_Dear Diary,_

_I’m starting to think that I might have kind of totally fucked up my life._

_All thanks to Rachel Duncan._

_Rachel Duncan: patron saint of pantsuits, our lady of perfectly planned petty revenge. My best friend, my lord and savior. I owe all of my newfound popularity to the mythic bitch herself. She reminds me of that every day._

_How lucky I am that she let me into her elite squad of mega bitches, that she lets me forge her mom’s signature. Do her homework. Fix her hair. Lick her boots._

_She reminds me every day how lucky I am, while in the same breath reassuring me how quickly she could burn me at the fucking stake and take it all away._

_I made it, didn’t I? I’m one of the popular kids now. My life should be wonderful. I used to be a nerd, some geek monkey sitting alone on the sidelines. No one ever noticed me – or if they did, no one seemed to care._

_I still feel lonely, but at least I’m not alone anymore. Right?_

_But Rachel Duncan. Rachel. FUCKING. Duncan. She’s Satan in in a well-ironed blazer. Sitting in her ivory fucking tower, watching as Beth Childs and Alison Hendrix (and now me, apparently) do her dirty work. She’s got those perfectly manicured hands wrapped around my throat. I’m stuck and I’m rapidly sinking down this pit she calls “popularity.”_

_I want a way out. Please, God, send an asteroid or something and rescue me from Rachel Duncan. Let me be free from -_

 

            Beth bumps purposefully into Cosima, sending ink flying across the page. Cosima slams the journal down and glares up from where she’s sitting on the stairs. “What’s your _damage_ , Beth?”

            “Cool the melodramatic journaling. Rachel wants to talk to you, shithead.”

            “Oh Christ, what now?”

            Beth shrugs. “Beats me. Knowing you, you probably pissed her off again. But seriously, Cos. You better motor before she hunts you down.”

            Cosima gathers her stuff and gives Beth the finger before making her way down to the cafeteria. She likes Beth, she really does. Deep down, Beth and Alison are decent people. They’re just drunk on popularity and kegers at college parties.

            When Cosima spots Rachel in the cafeteria, she immediately wishes she had never come at all.

            Rachel’s waiting for her expectantly at their usual table. She’s got the perfect hair, the gray blazer, the short skirt to match. Cosima’s dressed similarly, feeling uncomfortable in her own skin. She’s not used to wearing blue suit jackets, short skirts, heels. But she doesn’t make the rules, does she? Rachel does. And Rachel says that if she wants to be popular, she better dress like it.

            “Good afternoon, Cosima. ” Rachel talks like she’s the CE-fuckin’-O of the world. “You’re late.”

            “Late? Oh – oh _shit,_ it’s Tuesday, isn’t it?”

            Rachel’s mouth turns up into what would appear to be a smile, but Cosima knows there’s no real emotion behind it.

            “Yes. It is indeed Tuesday. And today, like _every_ Tuesday, is your turn to conduct my lunchtime poll.”

            Yes, how could she forget something so _important_?

            Rachel takes a graceful step towards her. They’re nearly the same height, and in these shoes Cosima’s actually just a little taller than her. But Rachel somehow manages to look _down_ on her. Makes her feel 2 inches tall.

            Rachel shoves the notebook into Cosima’s arms.

            “You forget so quickly, Cosima. I _saved_ you from another year of mediocrity. Out of everyone, I chose _you._ Do you realize how quickly I could make your life a living hell? Worse than before, if you can imagine.”

            “You wouldn’t dare.”

            Rachel lowers her voice, leans in closer. “I think the whole school would love to know about your little secret, wouldn’t they?”

            Cosima swallows hard.

            That night Rachel brought her to her first college party. Cosima had gotten drunk off of her mind on cheap beer, because why the fuck _not?_ Her arms wrapped around an older girl. The closet, where Rachel found her with her hand between the girl’s legs.

            Cosima had thought that Rachel would drop her right there and then, outed her to the whole school – because god _forbid_ she kiss boys _and_ girls. But she didn’t. She didn’t say a word. The whole way home, she didn’t mention it once. Weeks later, she’s still never brought it up. But her game was clear - Rachel holds it over her silently every day, saves it for a rainy day.

            And it works. Cosima’s not ashamed of herself, of course. But even _she’s_ not crazy enough to come out in rural shithole of a town.

            “Wouldn’t it be a shame for everyone to find out that you’re a _dyke._ I might even throw in the fact that you made a pass or two at me, for good measure.”

            “Bull _shit,_ you know that’s not – “ Rachel doesn’t need the truth, she doesn’t need the proof. She just needs the power, and boy does she have it. Cosima bites down on her lip and sighs, defeated.

            “I’ll go get started on the poll, then.”

            She clutches hard onto the notebook, and wills herself away to a world without Rachel Duncan.

            Cosima makes the rounds, stopping from table to table of students. They recite their well thought out answers, clamoring for their chance to be published in the school paper. For the chance to be deemed _worthy_ by Rachel.

            As Cosima gets up and starts to shuffle over to the next table, she catches a glimpse of a girl sitting by herself at the back corner table. She hesitates for a moment before making her way across the loud cafeteria.

            “Heyyy,” Cosima slips into the seat across from the blonde, who’s poking experimentally at the mystery meat lumped on her tray. She looks up at Cosima, big brown eyes peaking through blond curls.

            “I’d have a hard time believing that a girl as pretty as you would be eating lunch alone.” Cosima says, opening up the notebook.

            _Pretty is an_ _understatement,_ Cosima thinks. This girl is all pale skin and great hair and a leather jacket. Cosima’s not sure, but she thinks that she might be the coolest girl she’s ever met.

            The girl smiles into her lap. “I don’t think anyone’s noticed me yet, thankfully.”

            “Wait,” Cosima shifts in in her seat, leaning her head on her elbow. “New kid, right? From France, or whatever.”

            “Yeah, or whatever.” The blonde smirks and _wow_ , Cosima thinks, that _accent._

“Cool. Listen, I uh… Rachel’s got this new lunchtime poll and – hey, I didn’t catch your name. I’m Cosima. ” She shoves her hand across the table (just a little too forcefully, she notices too late.)

            “Delphine. Enchantée.” The girl - Delphine - shakes her hand with a smile.

            “Enchan…yeah." Cosima lets her hand fall back into her lap.  "So tell me Delphine, if you won the publisher’s sweepstakes and –“

            Delphine watches her, cocks her head. “Why are you asking me this?”

            “Well, Rachel does this poll every week and they put it in the school paper. It’s some weird power-trip thing, I think. Makes her feel like hot shit.”

            “Rachel? I don’t think I know her. “

            “Good. Oh god, she’d _hate_ you." Cosima laughs. "I don’t mean - not for any good reason, of course. She’d just hate you because you’re more foreign than her and you have _way_ better hair.”

            Rachel only surrounds herself with people she can use. People she can’t use, she ignores. But people she can’t use _and_ who threaten her status? She eats them _alive._

            Delphine nods, but doesn’t seem too phased. “Ah, I see. And which one’s Rachel?”

            Cosima twists around in her seat and spots her over there, arm draped around some football player (Paul, maybe?). She’s watching her. “Short blonde hair, gray blazer, arm around the beefcake. The one staring us down like a fuckin’ hawk. She’s one cold-ass bitch, trust me. You don’t want to know her.”

            She twists back around to face Delphine, who’s looking at her with one eyebrow raised.

            “Then why are you friends with her?” Delphine asks.

            Cosima shrugs. “Good question. Well, she kind of controls my life along with my other friends’ lives, so we have no choice. It’s like she’s our boss, and our job is being popular and shit.”

            “And who are the others?”

            Cosima twists around again and scans the cafeteria, finding Beth and Alison standing not far from Rachel. She points in their general direction.

            “The one with the pink blazer is Alison, and the girl next to her is Beth.” She wonders idly if Rachel knows about _them._ Wonders if she notices the way Beth looks at Alison, the shared whispers, the notes passed in secret. “Anyway, about this poll. So if the world was about to end and –“

            Cosima stops herself. Delphine’s looking past her, big brown eyes scanning the crowd behind her. A pang in her chest tells her she’s talking too much again. That she’s boring this girl who’s obviously _way_ cooler than her. And WAY out of her league. 

            But Delphine’s eyes dart back to Cosima, and she looks at her like she’s the most interesting person in the whole damn school. Like she matters.

            “Sorry, it’s just..” Delphine shakes her head. “It’s just…you seem so _different_ from them.”

            “Different? If you’re referring to the dreads, then you’re _totally_ right on that point.   But _trust me_ , Rachel wants to take care of that. I think her exact words were,” Cosima rolls her shoulders back and holds her chin absurdly high. “ ‘Cosima, we’ve _got_ to do something about your _hair’.”_ She practically spits the word out, exaggerating Rachel’s tight, kind of absurd upper-class accent.

            Cosima slinks back into her seat and laughs to herself.  “Trust me, that was _spot fucking on._ If you knew her you’d be like ‘wow, that was a really good impression of Rachel.’”

            “I’ll take your word for it.” Delphine chuckles behind her apple and takes a bite. “Well, if you ever need a friend who you don’t completely hate, I’ll be right here.”       

            Cosima smiles. “Thanks. And you too, you know. If you need someone to show you around or something, just let me know. I’m sure I can escape Rachel for at least a few -“

            “Cosima!” Speak of the fucking devil. Cosima turns around to see none other than Rachel Duncan herself strutting towards her, arms folded neatly in front of her.          

            “Cosima,” She says again, stopping a few feet away. “I believe nearly half of the cafeteria has yet to be polled. It would be a shame for you to ruin the integrity of _my_ lunchtime poll, wouldn’t it?”

            _Why don’t you just do it yourself, then_? Cosima would say aloud if she didn’t have a death wish. She allows herself to roll her eyes, and it doesn’t seem like Rachel notices.

            “Yeah, yeah…” Cosima trails off, gathering her stuff. She offers Delphine a sheepish smile and shrugs. “Sorry, I gotta go. It was nice meeting you, by the way.”

            “Cosima,” the way her name sounds on Delphine’s tongue sounds so strange, so adorably _French._

Cosima stands up, smoothes down that skirt that’s just a little too short and a little too tight and just a little not _her,_ but doesn’t leave. She can feel Rachel’s eyes burning holes through the back of her head.

            “That was a _very_ good impression, by the way.” Delphine grins before holding a hand up in a delicate half-wave. “ _Ciao.”_

            Cosima laughs, laughs like she hasn’t laughed in ages. Really means it, for once. “Thanks. See ya, uh, I mean, _ciao.”_

She turns on her heel, back to her hell, back to her sad little boring life. But she _likes_ this girl.

            And judging by her characteristic scowl, Rachel won’t like this one _bit._


	2. learn to fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel Duncan lays down the law. Delphine rides a motorcycle. That's about all you need to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have literally nothing to do with my life except work on this fanfic so chapters are probably going to come pretty quick.

           “I was just talking to the new girl, what’s the big deal?”

            Cosima’s leaned up against the bathroom stall, watching her three friends stare into the mirror. Alison’s leaned in close to her own reflection, fixing her bangs for the tenth time in two minutes. Beth pulls out a bottle of aspirin and mutters something about “migraines” as she downs the pill. Judging by the concerned glance Alison shoots her in response, Cosima can only guess that those “migraines” are coming more and more every day.

            Rachel’s reapplies that blood-red lipstick of hers with the slow, almost threatening deliberation that only Rachel Duncan can achieve. She drops the lipstick back into her purse but ignores Cosima’s question, instead watching herself in the mirror.

            Cosima groans.

           “Gonna stop eye-fucking yourself anytime soon?” she quips, and _swears_ that she can hear Beth stifling a chuckle. At least Childs still has a sense of humor these days.

           Rachel still doesn’t turn around to face her. “The ‘big deal’, is that I gave you _one_ job, and yet you distract yourself with some blonde _tramp_ instead of doing as I ask.”

 _Tramp._ God, is she full of herself.

           “Jesus, Rachel. Why are so fucking threatened by everyone who _isn’t_ you?” The annoyance in Cosima’s voice is all too apparent at this point.

           Rachel finally turns around and saunters over to Cosima, hands folded neatly in front of her, with a smile that says _you have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into, Niehaus._

          “Cosima, I don’t believe you understand how this works.” Her voice is calm, almost _understanding._ Cosima knows better.

          “I _run_ this school. I have worked every second of my high school career to get where I am today. Everything I do is so that I can maintain my position at the top. And if I say you can’t associate with someone, you _stay the fuck away.”_

 _You’re just jealous that she’s hotter than you_. Cosima wants to say, but she wills the thought away.

          Rachel Duncan slowly paces the bathroom floor, heels clanking against the worn tile.

          “I’ve assembled the perfect set up at the moment. Beth’s got the jocks, Alison’s got the arts. I’ve got the power. What do you have? You’ve got the brains, of course. But you’ve also got quite the mouth on you, don’t you?”

          Cosima smirks. Rachel’s got a point, there. She’s probably a little too snarky for her own good.

         “You may be playing the game with us now, but know that you’re only here because I _let_ you be here.   You’re useful, but not irreplaceable. I’m sure I could find another geek to do my homework who’s not a complete smart-ass in an instant.”

         Alison turns away from her reflection and offers Cosima a half-smile before clearing her throat deliberately. “Rachel, if I may –“

         “You may not.” Rachel says flatly.

         “Ali…” Beth sighs.

         Alison seems taken aback, but proceeds anyway. “I just think you’re being a little harsh on Cosima.”

        Rachel's shoulders somehow become even more tense, her gaze somehow even more invasive. “Close your mouth right this moment, and I’ll be generous enough to ignore that pastel disaster that you call an outfit.”

        Alison’s mouth is slightly agape, a delicate hand cradling the side of her face, slowly tightening to form a fist. Beth reaches out to touch her shoulder and mumbles something in her ear.

       Rachel lets out a downright aggressive sigh (as only Rachel can do) and moves on.

       “Now, if we’re quite finished. I’d like to remind you that we have a Remington University party to attend on Friday night. Beth, you’ll drive.”

        Oh great, _another_ frat party. More gross boys hitting on her, more holding Alison’s hair back in the bathroom after she has _way_ too many beers. _Again._

        “And Cosima,” she adds, making deliberate eye contact. “Consider this your last chance before I drop your ass.”

_Before I ruin your life._

 

* * *

 

            The last bell signals the end another school day, and for once Cosima doesn’t have to answer to anyone.

            The hour or so after school is all hers. Beth’s got practice, Alison’s got rehearsal, Rachel’s got student council (of course she does) and Cosima gets a rare afternoon alone. She’s sure that Rachel will call her soon enough to organize a “study session” (which will no doubt result in Cosima doing all of Rachel’s homework while she does her nails) but for now, the afternoon is hers.

            And what better way to start out her afternoon than by bumping into a cute French girl?

            “Hey, Delphine!” She shouts from across the parking lot, running towards the blonde as best she can in these absurdly impractical shoes.

            “Salut, Cosima.” Delphine says once Cosima finally catches up to her and _wow,_ she remembered her name.

            “I’m super sorry about flaking out on you like that at lunch.” Cosima’s walking in step with her, now, her stupid Rachel Duncan shoes clacking against the asphalt.

            “Don’t worry about it. In any case, it seemed pretty urgent, no?”

            Cosima can’t help but laugh. “Trust me, with Rachel _everything_ is urgent. Hey, which way are you walking home?”

            “Oh, I’m not walking, actually.” Delphine gestures towards the sleek, black motorcycle standing a few yards away from them.

            “You drive a motorcycle?” _Okay,_ Cosima thinks, _hot, French, and rides a motorcycle? That’s not even remotely in the realm of fair._

            Delphine smiles and leans in close to Cosima, as if she’s about to make a confession. “Technically, yes. Legally, no. It’s my father’s, I just don’t exactly have my license yet. But what’s a bit of crime between friends, right?”

            “Oooh. A bad girl. I like it.” _I really, really like it._

            Delphine runs a hand through that ridiculous hair. “Would you like a ride home?”

            Cosima readjusts the bag weighing heavily on her shoulders, catches herself glancing back over her shoulders without thinking. She half expects Rachel Duncan to be standing right behind her, ready to spit out another well-rehearsed diatribe about power and control.

            Fuck Rachel. Cosima’s free for the time being, why not live a little? Riding a motorcycle with an unlicensed acquaintance seems like the best way to do it.

            “You sure you don’t mind? I mean, I don’t live far at all and it’s totally okay if you don’t wanna -“

            “It would be my pleasure.” Delphine hands her a black helmet. “Put this on, please.”

            Cosima places the helmet on her head and snaps it on as Delphine swings one long leg over the side of the bike. “Hey, woah, what about you? Unless that hair of yours possesses some sort of magical powers, you’re gonna need a helmet too.”

            “You’re wearing it.” Delphine scoots forward on the seat. “I’ve only got the one, and I’d rather you wear it than me.”

            Cosima’s about to protest, about to tell her that she should be more careful, but every time she ever rode her skateboard without a helmet comes flying back to her. She’s not really one to talk, and Cosima gets the impression that Delphine’s not going to take no for an answer.

            “Okay, but I swear to _God_ I’m going to murder you if you get yourself killed.”

            Delphine laughs. “I promise I’ll be careful. Now tell me, Cosima, how do I get to your house?”

 

* * *

 

            She’s riding on a beautiful girl’s motorcycle, arms wrapped around that aforementioned beautiful girl’s waist, and _shit,_ life doesn’t get much better than this, does it?

            They’re cruising down Main Street – past the dive bars, the mom and pop diners. Past the liquor store where Rachel made her try to buy beer with a fake ID (the guy didn’t buy it for a second of course, just laughed in her face and told her to go back to middle school). Past the old run down movie theater where Cosima spent many a night seeing the week’s worst-rated movies by herself, high as a kite and laughing to herself in a near empty movie theatre. Past the park where Cosima spent the better part of her childhood hunting down frogs and taking them home as pets.

            This small town used to have charm, but these days it’s starting to feel smaller and smaller. Starting to choke her.  

            Cosima closes her eyes and imagines a world where Delphine doesn’t drop her off, just keeps on going – past her house, across the railroad tracks and onto the highway. Away from her boring old life, away from Rachel, away from the lie she’s living.

            She could go to the city – to Chicago, Minneapolis, New York, even San Francisco – and start over. Find people who want her for who she is rather than what she can do for them. Friends she can get high with and laugh and talk about the universe for hours on end, friends that won’t care if she wears “last month's fashion”. She wants adventures, she wants life.  Out. She wants out, anywhere but this goddamn town.

            This French girl’s practically a stranger, but she’s Cosima’s best bet for escape right about now.

            Delphine takes the left onto her street and for the first time Cosima realizes how tightly she’s got her arms snared around the blonde. If Delphine minds, she sure doesn’t say so.

            Cosima points out the old, two-story house she calls home and Delphine slows to a stop in front of it before nudging the kickstand down with her foot. Cosima nearly falls over trying to get off the bike, but Delphine lends her a hand.

            “You have a very nice house,” the blonde muses, staring up at the big puke-colored house Cosima calls home.

            “Yeah, well. After 17 years it gets a little old. It’s nothing much. But hey, it’s home.” Cosima pulls off the helmet and hands it to Delphine.

            “Have you lived here your whole life?” Delphine asks with a certain awe that makes Cosima wonder how many places Delphine’s lived in.

            “Unfortunately, yes.” Cosima smoothes down that stupid skirt again, and _god,_ she can’t wait to get out of these clothes. “I’ve been stuck here my entire existence, and so far it’s been pretty damn unimpressive.”

            “I don’t know,” Delphine smiles down at her, “I think it’d be nice to have a place to call home. Somewhere familiar.”

           Cosima nods slowly. “Oh, hey, thanks for the ride. I owe you big time.”

            For the first time, Cosima notices the way Delphine seems to tower over her.

            “It’s nothing. I’m just happy to have a friend here, now. Thank _you._ ”

            Delphine leans down and oh _shit is she going to kiss her?_ Cosima freezes in place before – oh yeah, _French –_ Delphine places a delicate kiss on her cheek.

            Cosima desperately hopes that Delphine doesn’t notice the heat rushing to her face as she pulls away.

            Delphine pulls on the helmet over all that ridiculous hair of hers and offers Cosima one last smile. “À plus.”

            Cosima watches as Delphine (oh god, does she look like she’s staring? Because she’s totally staring) climbs back onto the motorcycle. She gives her one last wave before speeding off down the asphalt.  Cosima watches her until she rounds the corner and leaves her sight, and Cosima wonders about all the places that Delphine's been, all the places she's going to. Cosima hopes desperately that she can see Delphine again tomorrow and learn everything about her life.

            She likes this girl. And _boy,_ does Cosima Niehaus have it _bad._

 


	3. static

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the night of the Remington party. What could possibly go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for gross frat boys tbh.

October 13th, 1989

 

Dear diary,

_Delphine Cormier is kind of ruining my life in the best way possible. With that stupid French smirk of hers and that stupid bike and that stupid hair. She’s probably totally straight and she’s DEFINITELY out of my league, but hey, a girl can dream can’t she? She gave me a ride home again on Thursday, and I swear I heard her call me ‘cute’ when I almost fell off her bike._

_Tonight’s the Remington party. Rachel says this is my last chance to stay in her good graces. I guess I’m going to have to play the role of her geek monkey bitch again if I want to survive the weekend._

            “Cosima,” Rachel interrupts her journaling during home room.

            She shuts the leather-bound journal and slides it to the side of her desk, glancing up at Rachel. “Mmm?”

            “Why do you insist on writing in that stupid thing every day?” She sits on the edge of Cosima’s desk, her back facing her.

            Cosima sighs and ignores the dig. “What do you want, Rachel?”

            “I’d like for you to forge a doctor’s note for me.” Rachel sets down one of her pens and a piece of stationary. “I’ve got better things to do than go to gym today.”

            “I can totes do that.” Cosima picks up the pen and twirls it between her fingers. “Do you have an example of your doctor’s handwriting I can look at real quick?”

            “No, I’m afraid I don’t.” Rachel says, still not looking at her.

            “Uh, well, I’ll try my best, but –“

            “Good. I expect nothing less than your best.” She slides off the desk and paces back across the room, effectively ending the conversation.

 

* * *

 

            She meets Delphine in the parking lot again after school, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Rachel’s not watching. As Cosima approaches, Delphine tosses her the helmet again.

            “Salut, Cosima.” Delphine says with a smile, and Cosima feels a tinge of guilt for ignoring her at lunch again today. “We should hang out sometime.”

            “We’re hangin’ out right now, aren’t we?” Cosima shrugs.

            “I mean, really hang out. If you’re not busy right now, you could come over to my place.”

            “That’d be awesome.” _Fuck Rachel._ Beth’s not picking her up for the party until 8, and whatever Duncan doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right? She’s a free agent until 8 pm.

            When they finally make it to Delphine's house, the blonde gives her the grand tour.  It's a newer house than Cosima's but charming nonetheless.  The living room and the family room on the first floor are filled with boxes, and Delphine apologizes for the mess. She leads Cosima up the stairs to her room.

            “Do you mind if I smoke?” Delphine asks as she steps inside ahead of Cosima.

            Cosima shrugs. “Nah, go ahead.”

            Delphine pulls a pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of her jacket and holds it out towards Cosima.

            “Oh, I don’t smoke. Not cigarettes, anyway. Just weed for me. “

            Delphine pulls a cigarette out of the pack before fishing out a lighter from her back pocket.

            “I’ve never tried it, myself.”

            “Really? _Dude,_ I’m gonna get you so baked one day.”

            Delphine smirks and pulls the cigarette to her lips, lights it, and take a long drag.

            “Okay,” she says. “One day.”

            Cosima glances around the room. A decent sized bed is pushed up against the back wall. Cardboard boxes are scattered throughout, all taped shut and left untouched. Except for one sitting on her desk, next to a record player.

            “Oh, shit. That’s a _sick_ record player.” Cosima walks over to it to take a closer look.

            Delphine flips through the box of records, pulling the cigarette back to her lips and taking another long drag.

            “My father bought it for me when he first told me we had to leave France,” she says, smoke billowing out alongside words.

            “Every time we move, he buys me a few more records. “

            Cosima glances down at the box. “Geez, you must move a lot.”

            “Almost every six months,” Delphine pulls out an album and tilts it towards Cosima. “This one’s from the summer I spent in England a few years ago.”

            “Didn’t take you as someone who listened to The Smiths.”

            “Well, you don’t know me very well, do you?” Delphine laughs, before placing the cigarette back between her lips and pulling the record, turning it over in careful hands.

            Delphine plays the record and takes one last drag.

 

_I decree today that life is simply taking and not giving  
           England is mine and it owes me a living…._

 

            Delphine smashes the cigarette into the ash tray on the desk and grabs Cosima by the hand, pulling her towards the beat-up couch in front of the TV.

            “I’ve just got one question for you, Ms. Cormier,” Cosima says as she plops herself down on the couch.

            “Mmm?” Delphine sits down beside – nope, she _lays_ down across the couch, her head in Cosima’s lap. She smiles up at her and Cosima grins like an idiot back and oh _god,_ is this Delphine flirting with her?

            Cosima clears her throat and tries to play it cool. “I was just wondering what the _hell_ is someone as cool as you doing in a town like this?”

            She chuckles. “Like I said, I move around a lot. I don’t have much of a choice in the matter. Not that I don’t like it here, of course.”

            “No, you’re _totally_ allowed to hate it, trust me.” Cosima tries to ignore how lovely Delphine looks like this, long legs in tight jeans stretched out in front of her.

            Delphine plays with the hem of her t-shirt. “You could stay for dinner, you know. If you’d like.”

            Cosima bites her lip. How badly she wants to stay, to spend the night getting to know this girl. But she’s already sold her soul to Rachel for the evening. “I’d totes love to, I’ve just got this thing tonight.”

            “A thing?”

            “This college party on the other side of town, with Rachel and the gang. It’ll be very.”

            “Very..what?” Delphine looks up at her, eyebrows knit together in confusion.

            “Oh, just... very. It’s a thing we say here. It means, like, really cool.”

            Delphine narrows her eyes at her. “You say it’ll be _very_ but you don’t seem too excited about it.”

            Cosima doesn’t respond aside from a non-committal shrug. Just closes her eyes and moves her head along with the beat of the music.

 _And if the people stare_  
 _then, the people stare_  
 _oh I really don't know_  
 _and I really don't care_  

            “What was your life like before you met Rachel?”

            Cosima sighs and stares up at the ceiling, finding patterns in the cracks. “I was alone a lot. The kids who didn’t completely ignore me just thought I was weird, you know? But then Rachel took me in for some ungodly reason and then suddenly, hey, I mattered. I wasn’t invisible anymore.”

            “But now you hate your life.” Delphine observes.

            “Yeah, kind of a lot.”

            “Change it, then.” Delphine says it like it's the easiest thing in the world.

            Rachel’s voice echoes in Cosima’s head. _Your little secret. “_ I can’t. I just can’t.”

            “You wouldn’t have to be alone anymore, remember? Forget Rachel, you deserve better.  A real friend.”

_If they dare touch a hair on your head_   
_I'll fight to the last breath_   
_The good life is out there somewhere_   
_so stay on my arm, you little charmer_

            “Delphine, I really appreciate it but you _massively_ underestimate Rachel’s ability to be a complete bitch. If I piss her off for good, my life is over. Seriously, it’s life or death. She'd probably end your life, too.  Just for shits and giggles.”

            Just because she _can._ Rachel Duncan would probably set fire to the school just because she _could._

            Delphine shakes her head. “Forget Rachel. Life’s too short to worry about what girls like her think.”

            Cosima hums an approval. There’s something about Delphine – the way she moves, the way she manages to not give a single fuck about any of Rachel’s bullshit. She figures that kind of attitude must come from moving all over the place. Delphine never has much time anywhere, so why let a few megabitches get you down?

            Looking down at her – brown eyes glancing up, looking impossibly calm, hopeful. Lithe body strewn out across her lap, thin grey t-shirt riding up a pale stomach ( _jesus fuck) –_ Cosima hopes that Delphine stays here for good.

            They stay like this for a while, talking about anything and everything. Delphine only gets up to put on a new record, then another, and then another, but thankfully falls back into the same position on Cosima’s lap every time. Cosima’s hands move through the air excitedly as she recounts the time she accidentally started a fire at the 8th grade science fair. Her hands paint Cosima’s vision of her future, a future where she’s studying at big-time universities on the west coast or traveling the world.

            Cosima becomes acutely aware that she’s talking Delphine’s ear off, but the way the blonde looks up at her, truly and genuinely interested, makes her want to keep going. For the first time in god knows how long, Cosima feels completely free and so very much _her._

Delphine tells her stories of growing up in France and all over the world, recounts the times when her dad left her completely unsupervised in a brand new city and just let her explore. This was the 14th move in six years for her, so she talks about it like it’s nothing. Cosima asks her about the first time she moved, and Delphine admits to some rebellious behaviors she adopted at the age of 12 in order to get back at her dad for making her leave France.

            “That’s where the smoking comes from,” Delphine says with a laugh.

            Listening to her talk, listening to the adventures she’s had, Cosima wishes she could go with her.

            Cosima glances down to the watch on her wrist. They’ve been like this for three hours. “Shit. I gotta motor, Delphine. Big night out, and all. Would you mind giving me a ride?”

            Turns out Delphine doesn’t mind at all, and Cosima promises to make it up to her one day.

            “I just feel bad having you drive me around all over the place,” she says as she climbs onto the back of Delphine’s bike again, already becoming familiar with the routine. “I’d offer to drive you sometime but I don’t think that would be good for anyone involved.”

            Besides, her dad still hasn’t given her the car keys back since the fire hydrant incident.

            On the ride home, arms wrapped tight around Delphine, Cosima makes a mental note of how to get to Delphine’s house for future reference. As long as Rachel doesn't find out, Cosima can tell that she'll be escaping to Delphine's place often enough.

            When they say goodbye, this time it’s Cosima that leans in, on her toes, and places a kiss on Delphine’s cheek. Lets her fingers graze against Delphine’s.

            _I can flirt too, Cormier._

            “See ya.” Cosima says before wheeling around and going inside.

 

* * *

 

            Cosima makes it home just in time for dinner with her parents, who don’t pay her much attention besides mumbled affirmations, eyes glued to their research papers as they shovel spaghetti in their mouths.

            “I’m going to a party tonight,” she says, breaking the silence.

            “Mhmmm.” Her dad doesn’t even look up.

            “Gonna be a total rager, probably tons of illicit drugs and whatnot. I was thinking I might go home with a guy I just met and get matching tattoos. Would that be okay with you guys?”

            “Sounds lovely, dear,” mom gives a half-assed thumbs up.

            Cosima lets out a loud sigh and throws her dishes in the sink with a _clank._ She runs upstairs to take a quick shower, with only 20 minutes left until Beth’s supposed to pick her up.  When she gets out, she lays down her outfit for the night.

            _You’ll wear the outfit we bought last week at The Limited,_ Rachel had murmured to her during English class.

            She was, of course, referring to the impossibly short plaid skirt she had forced her to buy along with another blue blazer. Rachel was, no doubt, coordinating Alison and Beth’s outfits too.

            Cosima pulls on some knee-high socks and somewhat comfy shoes and steps in front of the mirror. She doesn’t mind the outfit. Hell, she looks pretty damn hot. But the way the fabric clings to her body, the way she can feel Rachel Duncan’s hands all over her, hear her say _buy this, wear this._

A car honks twice outside. Cosima runs over to the window and sticks her head out to see Beth’s shitty little station wagon under the streetlight. She honks again.

            “Yo, Niehaus,” Beth shouts out the car window. “Get your nerd ass out here or we’re gonna be late!”

            “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!” Cosima shouts back before slamming the window shut.

            She offers a “bye, love you guys” to her parents as she climbs down the stairs and grabs her keys from the bowl on the table. They don’t seem to hear, and she slams the door behind her.

            Alison’s already sitting shotgun when Cosima climbs in the back seat. Beth’s got the radio on, blaring some Cyndi Lauper. On second thought, Alison was probably the one choosing the music.

            “Hey, bitches.” Cosima says as she clicks her seatbelt on.

            “Lookin’ good, Cos.” Beth holds up an exaggerated thumbs up as she puts the car into drive. “Rachel will approve.”

            Alison twists around in her seat to face her. “Where were you this afternoon, Cosima? I tried calling your house but your dad said you weren’t home.”

            “Oh, I was, uh, studying. At the library.”

            “On a Friday afternoon?”

            “Yeah, you know me! Study, study, study.” Cosima chuckles, and Alison seems to buy it. _Why is she lying to them? Rachel isn’t even here._

Soon enough, though, Beth pulls up to the Rachel’s massive house (seriously, this thing needs its own zip code) and Rachel saunters out the front door just seconds later.

            “Was she waiting in the window again?” Cosima asks.

            “Jesus fuck, that’s creepy.” Beth mumbles, and she elbows Alison. “She’s gonna want shotgun, you know.”

            Alison sighs and climbs into the back seat with Cosima just as Rachel makes her way over to the car and sits down. A few moments later, without a word, Rachel turns the music all the way down and they drive the rest of the way in complete silence.

            Boy, is this gonna be a long night.

* * *

           

            The party is loud and douchey, as expected. Cosima loses sight of Alison and Beth almost immediately, stuck alone with Rachel Duncan.

            Rachel’s all decked out in her tightest, shortest red dress, already talking up some muscled frat boy. Cosima watches her from the side, bemused. Rachel takes delicate sips of a beer in between carefully rehearsed bouts of flirting. The runs a hand delicately up his arm, speaks in a low voice so he has to lean in close to hear her over the roar of the party. If Cosima didn’t know her so well, she’d admire Rachel. The girl’s good at what she does.

            After awhile, though, she can only stomach so much. Cosima sneaks away while Rachel’s distracted with her latest beefcake and weaves through the crowd, grabbing herself a beer in the process. She winds through the rooms and halls of the massive frat house, stumbling over several people who are already passed out drunk.

            She tries to enjoy herself, strikes up conversation with a guy who seems to behave like a decent human being. Just as she offers her name, though, someone taps her shoulder.

            It’s Beth with an already very drunk Alison draped over her shoulder. “You seen the bathroom?” She shouts over the music.

            “She’s puking _already?”_ Cosima asks.

            “Not yet, just taking precautions.” Beth smiles down at Alison, who's laughing to herself about god knows what.

            Cosima shrugs, pointing in the general direction of where the bathroom might be. When she turns back around, the guy she was talking to is already gone.

            Great. Cosima downs her beer in about two seconds, not _nearly_ drunk enough for this shit.

            She grabs another red solo cup and makes her way back over to where she started, and plops down on an unoccupied couch. Just a few moments later a sweaty, skinny guy in a polo plops down next to her.

            “Hey there, beautiful.” He mumbles, already scooting a bit closer to her.

            She sighs and scoots away. “Listen, buddy. I’m not interested.”

            “Baby, just give me a chance,” he slurs.

            "Nah, I'm good, thanks." She doesn't make eye contact with him, just looks straight ahead. _Fuck off. Fuck off. Fuck off._

            Beer-Breath leans in close. “Your friend over there told me you needed a good fuck.”

            Cosima inhales a sharp breath through her nose. Then she notices her. Rachel’s watching her from across the room, pushed up against the wall, her new boytoy kissing her neck.  She looks utterly bored with wherever he’s got his hands – she’s completely focused on Cosima, no doubt waiting to see if she'll follow orders.

            “Fuck off.” Cosima hisses.

            He throws an arm around her and runs his hand up her thigh. Oh _fuck_ no. Somehow Cosima ends up on her feet, and her beer ends up in his face.

            “You’ve got a right hand, go _fucking_ use it!” Cosima shouts before turning around, and Rachel’s already on her feet, waiting for her.

            Cosima weaves through the crowd, storms out the door. Rachel follows her the whole way. She can feel her there, eyes burning through the back of her skull.

            “Cosima, this is your last chance. If you turn around now and do as I ask, I’ll forget what just happened.”

_Forget Rachel. You’re not alone anymore._

            Cosima turns around, but she doesn’t follow Rachel inside. She doesn’t hold her head down in fear anymore.

            Instead, she rushes forward, and pushes Rachel Duncan to the ground.

            Rachel stumbles back onto her aerobicized ass and looks up at Cosima. For the first time, Rachel Duncan looks _surprised._ “Nobody lays hands on me,” she hisses.

            “Do you get off on this shit, Rachel?" Cosima shouts, her voice cracking in her throat. "Trying to get me to fuck some asshole just so you can feel in control. You’re fucked up, you know that?”

            Rachel climbs to her feet and smiles. She fucking _smiles._ “I had no idea you felt this way about me.”

            “Well I’m tired of being pushed the fuck around, okay?”

            Rachel takes a few steps forward and slaps Cosima across the face. “Cosima, you stupid _fuck.”_

            Cosima takes a step back, rubbing the spot where Rachel made contact with her. “You goddamn _bitch.”_ She spits.

            “I gave you everything and you’re throwing it away. The clothes, the boys, the popularity. I _saved_ you.”

            “Yeah, well I wasn’t looking to be saved!”

            “Your choice.” Rachel wipes her hands on her dress, maintaining an even voice but the fury in those eyes of hers is clear. “Enjoy your final days, Niehaus. Because come Monday morning, your life is over.”

 _Two days left to live_ , Cosima thinks, _how should I spend them?_

            She turns around without another word to Rachel, and wonders if she can find her way to Delphine’s house from here.


	4. dead girl walking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's got nothing left to lose, so Cosima decides to do something very, very stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is pretty hella NSFW by the way, so if you’re not into that just read the beginning and you’ll get the general idea. 
> 
> i had a lot of trouble writing this one, mostly because i struggle writing sex sometimes but i hope it's not too much of a drop in quality! feedback would be wonderful, as always.

            First off: she probably should have called a cab.

            Cosima walks all the way to Delphine’s house, and at first she was grateful for the opportunity to clear her head. But alone with her thoughts, alone with Rachel’s voice sealing her fate over and over in her head, Cosima finds herself wishing desperately for the noise. The loud music, the obnoxious frat boys yelling at her to take another shot, _anything._ Or at least some weed to calm her nerves.

Second: climbing the tree and crawling in through Delphine’s window was probably not the best choice, especially in this outfit. About three-quarters of the way up Cosima realized how _stupid_ she was being, how she should have just gone home and knocked on Delphine’s door in the morning like a normal fucking human being.

            But when you’re already three-quarters of the way up to a beautiful French girl’s window, there’s not a whole lot that’s gonna make you want to turn around and call the whole thing off.

            The window was open, thank the fuckin’ Lord, because Delphine sleeps like a goddamn rock. She didn’t wake up  when Cosima dropped an “oh shit” as she held onto that windowsill for dear life. Didn’t move a muscle when Cosima yanked herself through the window and went stumbling across the room.

            She finally jolts awake when Cosima sits down– well, more _bounces_ on the edge of her bed.

            “Hey, hey, it’s me,” Cosima says before Delphine has any chance to think she’s an axe murderer or something. She takes off her shoes and kicks them against the wall.

            Delphine _clicks_ on the lamp on her nightstand and squints at Cosima with sleepy eyes.

            “Hope ya don’t mind,” Cosima jabs her thumb towards the open window, sliding off the bed and back onto her feet. “Kinda let myself in.”

            Cosima prepares her best sheepish smile, but Delphine doesn’t seem annoyed. Just shakes her head and swings her legs off the side of the bed.

            (she’s _very much_ not wearing pants)

            “Sorry for waking you up.” Cosima says, hopping off the bed.

            “You should’ve just come through the front door,” Delphine mutters, running a hand through her hair and getting to her feet.

            “Didn’t wanna wake your old man. Figured Mr. Cormier wouldn’t appreciate a strange girl knocking at this hour. Besides, this was so much cooler. Just like in the movies, right?”

            Cosima paces the room, walks over to Delphine’s record collection. She flips through it, not really paying attention to the names or the artwork. Her hands are shaking.

            “It wouldn’t have been so cool if you fell.” Delphine sighs.

            “Exactly! I’m a natural-born thrill seeker, me. I’ll have you know that I happen to spend my afternoons riding around on a motorcycle with a strange, unlicensed foreigner.”

            “Cosima, why are you here? What happened?”

            Cosima turns around to face Delphine, who’s now standing in the middle of the room, hair a mess, her arms crossed. Cosima tries her damndest to ignore the whole no pants situation, but fails miserably.

            Cosima manages an exaggerated pout. “What, not happy to see me?”

            Delphine’s still got that concerned look on her face. “Did something happen with Rachel?”

            Cosima bites the inside of her cheek at the mention of Rachel. “Yeah, she’s a grade-a-fuckin’ bitch, that’s what happened. The ususal.”

            “Cosima, if Rachel hurt you –“

            “Hey, if we could make this room a ‘Duncan Free Zone” that’d be awesome.” Cosima’s voice catches in her throat. _No,_ she’s not letting Rachel get the best of her now. “Please, just… help me forget all of this bullshit.”

_Help me forget that my life is over. That Rachel’s going to turn to whole school against me, pull those stupid fucking strings of hers and make everyone do the ‘We Hate Cosima Niehaus’ dance._

            Cosima’s hands ball into fists. God, she should’ve just gone straight for the jaw. Punched that stupid smirk off of Rachel’s face.

            Delphine hesitates. Looks her up and down carefully, but finally nods her head once. “Of course.”

            “And I am, you know,” Delphine adds, “happy to see you.” She takes a few steps forward, eyes bright, smile warm. Fuck. Delphine looks at her like she means it, like she’s genuinely _happy_ Cosima climbed into her room in the middle of the night like a complete creep.

            “I am too. I mean, yeah. I’m happy you’re happy to see me.” Smooth one, Niehaus.

            There’s a heavy silence, long enough for Cosima to realize how fucking _weird_ this is. She doesn’t even know _why_ she came here. Here she is, standing across from a girl she’s totally got the hots for after _climbing in through her window_ uninvited. This whole situation is straight up ridiculous, right out of some bullshit romantic comedy.  

            But Cosima can’t help but smile because, for the first time in _months,_ she has no obligations. No plans. No worrying about Rachel disapproving because _that_ ship has fuckin’ sailed. It’s just her and Delphine, who apparently _wants_ her in her bedroom at midnight.

            For the first time in what feels like an eternity, Cosima’s in the drivers seat.

            And as her first executive decision as a truly free agent, Cosima does one more _very stupid_ thing.

            She closes the gap between them without much thinking, really– she remembers her legs pulling her across the room, feels hands tangling in hair and grazing skin, lips chapped from the fall air finding warmth again against Delphine. She can feel Delphine’s hands grabbing her waist.

            The rational part of Cosima’s brain comes back to life and reminds her that _hey,_ this is crazy stupid (really, _astronomically_ stupid) and she might just have ruined everything for the second time tonight.

            She allows herself to pull back, lets her arms fall loose around Delphine’s neck. Delphine looks down at her, eyes wide. There’s a weird smile on her face.

            Cosima shakes her head. “Shit, I’m sorry, I –“ Delphine doesn’t let her finish, just cups her face and pulls her in for a much too slow, all too gentle kiss.

            Cosima yanks her in closer, stumbles backwards into the desk. Her tongue grazes Delphine’s bottom lip before she lets it dart in and out of her mouth.

            “My father…” Delphine mumbles in between kisses, hands falling from Cosima’s face and down to her waist.

            “Not really the response I was looking for,” Cosima chuckles into Delphine’s neck and bites experimentally.

            “We’ll wake him up,” The quick breath Delphine sucks in through her teeth makes Cosima grin. “He’ll hear us.”

            “Better keep real quiet then,” Cosima makes her way back up and captures Delphine’s mouth back into a messy kiss before taking her bottom lip between her teeth.

            Delphine’s hands are firm on Cosima’s waist, angling her up onto the desk. Cosima runs her hands under the thin fabric of Delphine’s tank top, fingers tracing patterns up and down her stomach.

            Delphine fumbles with the buttons on Cosima’s blazer, places kisses down Cosima’s neck. Cosima wonders, distantly, if Delphine has done this before. Not that it matters, of course. All that matters it that right here, right now, Delphine Cormier is throwing that stupid blazer on the floor, pulling off the shirt underneath. This _ridiculously_ hot girl has her hands sliding up Cosima’s bare stomach, makes Cosima’s breath catch in her throat.

            Her lips catch Cosima’s again, and Delphine lets her tongue push past parted lips. Delphine grinds up against her, grabbing Cosima’s skirt and pushing the fabric up as far as she can.

            Cosima shakes her head, breaks the kiss. “No,” she mumbles into Delphine’s open mouth, “get it off, get if _off.”_

Delphine takes a step back and Cosima hops off the desk. With clumsy hands they push it down and onto the floor, but not without an audible _rip_ of fabric as Cosima’s frantic grasp tears the skirt down its side. Delphine breathes an apology into Cosima's ear.

            _No,_ Cosima thinks. _Good riddance._ She reaches down to pull off her socks but Delphine’s hands pull her face back up to hers.

Cosima tugs on Delphine’s shirt and the blonde slides it up over her head, tosses it on the couch. She wastes no time running her lips over Delphine’s bare breasts, lets her fingers leave marks down her back. Presses her thigh up between Delphine’s legs.

            Delphine lets out a low moan that sounds an awful lot like Cosima’s name, and it’s pretty much the best thing she’s ever heard.

Cosima kisses her way back up to Delphine’s neck. “Bed,” she hisses in her ear, and the blonde wastes no time stumbling backwards towards the bed.

            Cosima pushes her down onto the bed with an unexpected shove and climbs on top of her, leaning down to leave a trail of bite marks along Delphine’s pale neck. Cosima feels hands reaching, grazing down her back, unhooking her bra. She lets it come off in one swift motion.

            Delphine lets a hand slip between Cosima’s legs and traces lightly over the fabric. Cosima chokes back a noise that _surely_ would’ve blown their cover and bites down hard on her lip.

            Delphine's gentle touch isn't enough, isn't nearly enough. Cosima grabs Delphine’s wrist and pushes her hand beneath the fabric of her underwear, eyes rolling back when she feels Delphine slip a finger inside of her. _Shit._

_Help me forget, make this whole hellhole disappear._

            Cosima grinds down, and shaky hands help her keep her balance above Delphine.   She closes her eyes as her hips move on their own accord, grinding in time with Delphine’s capable fingers. She moves faster, coaxing Delphine further inside of her.

_Forget, forget, forget._

            But then Delphine _stops._ Just pulls her hand away from her without a word. Before Cosima can groan in protest Delphine captures her mouth back into a slow kiss and - _oh, shit._ Delphine’s shifting her body, turning Cosima on her back. She moves quickly, pressing messy kisses along Cosima’s throat, across her breasts, down her stomach.

            “Shit, Delphine,” Cosima gasps, “you don’t… you don’t have to.”

            “There’s a first time for everything, yes?” Delphine mumbles into her thigh, flashing that dangerous half-smile up at her as she pulls down her underwear and _fuck,_ Cosima’s long gone. Delphine Cormier’s just full of surprises, isn’t she?

            Delphine glances up at her, eyes seeking some sort of approval. Cosima gives a shaky nod and turns her head against the pillow. Delphine's tongue grazes just the right spot and Cosima grabs a fistful of blonde hair in her hand, guiding her. The world shrinks around Cosima – all that’s left is Delphine’s tongue between her legs, Delphine’s hair gripped tight in her hands, the sound of her own shallow breathing. Everything so simple and clear for once, just her and Delphine together, breaking all the rules. It feels kind of perfect, even with all the bullshit. Maybe they could deal with all the bullshit together, she wonders, just Cosima and Delphine against the world.

            Cosima smiles to herself, because right here, right now, her world feels pretty damn beautiful for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "so the world’s unfair, keep it locked out there  
> in here it’s beautiful  
> let’s make this beautiful "
> 
> \- dead girl walking, heathers: the musical


End file.
